


The Broken White Boy Collection

by shardsofglass (rayoflight)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Deathfic, Drabble Collection, F/M, Labor/Birth, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayoflight/pseuds/shardsofglass
Summary: I don't have the mental space or energy to write much longform fiction anymore, but I so love the idea of these two together. I had to write something. Thanks to the cuteness of Seb and Tish for pushing me over the edge. Anyway, I'm an angst and pain girl. I like torturing characters I like for the feels. So it's mostly that, but I have a few lighter vignettes too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WinterPrincess Shippers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=WinterPrincess+Shippers).



### Chapter Text

She spoke the Russian words in succession, while Bucky once again tested his bonds, ensuring there was no give. He felt better about her doing this without his metal arm, but he was still terrified of hurting her.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax. He was safe here. He would not be made a mindless killing machine ever again, thanks to the brilliant girl currently fussing over him. His trust in her abilities, her skills, and just  _her_  was the only reason he had consented to this. He didn't know what to make of the girl, at first.  He knew she was young, likely not even twenty, and yet she had designed all of the technical inner-workings of this fortified country. -The strange juxtaposition of her light energy and the heavy responsibility she so easily managed.  She wore down his defenses with her kindness, patience, and teasing.  The lost wary man was replaced with a hopeful one.

After the last trigger word was spoken, his mind softened into that pliable state that he so loathed.

He stilled and waited for instructions. Shuri quietly examined his brainwave activity in a hologram floating above her palm.  She carefully focused in on the hot-spots that suppressed his personal will,  manually fixing them with precision.

He blinked rapidly with glassy eyes, and shuddered.

The Doras standing guard tensed.

"...Sergeant Barnes? Do you recognize me?"  Shuri leaned in close to Bucky's face, while Okoye huffed disapprovingly. She did not like the Princess taking such chances. No matter how skilled she was, she was not infallible. She could not predict what this foreign assassin might do.

"-Princess," he said, his eyes crawling over her face as if just waking from a deep sleep.  "Yes, I know you."

She smiled broadly and he breathed so deeply that his entire body lost it's tension.  She asked a few establishing questions about the date, time, and where he was, just to be certain.

"-For a second there I thought I'd dreamed all this." he said.

"Side-effect of my work. I told you it might all feel a little unreal, but  _this_  is not.  I have successfully isolated the triggers. They no longer work." Shuri replied.

He could have hugged her.

"-But, the effects of your experiences are still there. You are still vulnerable to reprogramming if ever you are captured again. Good news is, since you are here, we do have non-medical treatments that would allow you to build up a resistance to it. I appealed to my brother and he has set aside a speck of land, -for your own use. It is private and full of simplicity; nature, quiet daily tasks, exactly what your brain needs in order to properly reset, -to _heal_. I, and the elders will also guide you through more in-depth aspects of your healing process."

Her hand rested near his so he gently took it into his own, a delicate thing covered in Wakandan henna patterns.

"Thank you." he said.  
  
"It's what I do." she said, simply with a shrug. "I make improvements."


	2. Chapter 2

It happened outside of the safe barriers of Wakanda, while he was away attempting to atone for the damage his body had been forced to inflict. She was guest-speaking at a STEM conference in Berlin, when they took her.

His worst fear had come to pass. The only unsullied thing in his life, attacked and taken; a long way from the protected paradise he had come to know as home. Two Doras had been killed by the terrorists who had done it, using stolen Wakandan tech.

He was closer to the compound. 

He would get there first.

It was like old times. The switch. The strange stillness in knowing exactly what had to be done and executing that. The focus. --No hesitation, no confusion. Just the intensity he always gave to the mission.

It was a merciless surgical strike. Him, the battering ram and the weapon. He tore through countless men and a few women to get to her. Bullets licked at his flesh, but he felt nothing. 

Necks, spines, and limbs snapped without impunity. -Faces were blown to red mist. He easily incapacitated the one manning the Wakandan weapon before it could be fired up, using her arm -he still thought of it as her arm- to crush the firing mechanism, and punched the man hard enough to cave his chest. He gripped the last man standing by the throat hard enough to bulge his eyes.

He leaned in.

"Where is she?" he asked in Russian.

He loosened his fingers just enough so he could answer. The man sputtered and weakly gestured at a door at the end of the hallway. Bucky dragged the man in front of him like a shield, and placed his vibranium hand against the heavy steel framed door, checking for traps. The sophisticated arm's pressure signals read five souls within. Three aiming at the door, and two focusing their weapons on the princess, who had been securely restrained with zipties.

He entered the room and took out the two securing Shuri within a blink's span. 

Headshots. 

More red mist. 

The three in front of him obliterated the man he was using as a shield and managed to hit him twice in his body armor before he killed them all.

He approached her and her face... Streaked with angry tears, spattered with blood from the men he'd just shot, and tinged with a hint of unsurety. She had seen his memories, but witnessing him in action like this was... He had summoned the wolf for her, and he looked the part of a predator, but when he knelt before her, his glaucous eyes were not empty but full of a mixture of relief and soft concern.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

"No. But you are!-" she replied, frowning at a nasty gash on his cheek.

"-How are you here? -Where is my brother?" 

"On his way. I'm taking you to him. I was closer."

"And you couldn't wait for him or Okoye?- HEY!"

He easily hefted her slight frame over one shoulder. She complained a bit about it, saying a few choice words in Xhosa but quieted when he leveled his weapon in front of him, alert for more enemies.

 

They met four more captors on the way out, all he swiftly dispatched without breaking his stride, barely jostling the princess. One he shot in his back as he tried to run away. ...Shuri didn't know how to feel about that.

 

Once outside of the compound, he used his knife to cut her bonds and mounted his motorcycle. Shuri quickly straddled the seat behind him, securely wrapping her arms around his waist.

Over the roar of the engine, she managed to say to his back, "...You should have waited!" 

These people were Russian! They could have been the same ones...and they wouldn't have harmed her. The likely either wanted ransom, her skills or some combination of both. She'd barely been in their possession long enough to know. She could have gotten away herself, given time.

Still, after a moment she swallowed her ego and annoyance at him risking what he did and followed up with a quiet, "Thank you, James."


	3. Chapter 3

The shockwave of the blast had been powerful enough to knock her off her feet, and ring her ears.

Nonetheless, Shuri crawled through the debris and found him.

Shuri pulled the broken man's head up into her lap. "No-no-no-no..."

She cradled and rocked him, and trying her best to stanch the bleeding...

"I can save you." she said, trying to convince herself of this lie.

"You can't leave me!" Tears sparked in her eyes.

He smiled and weakly raised his hand to touch her face. "He didn't hurt you. ...You're safe now."

The color was draining from his face.

"STOP! -Stop talking. You have to save your strength." She had placed a kimoyo bead on the wound, but it was no use... Some things were beyond even Wakandan tech.

"Bucky." she whispered sadly... and kissed his brow. "You can't go..."

He stared up into her face as if trying to will more time for understanding. Blood streaked her cheek where his fingers trailed. His hand fell from her face.

"Shuri..." His eyes were overbright but the words were too much effort.

"-I know. Me too," and it seemed that his eyes softened for a moment, because of course she knew, before they permanently went dull.


	4. Chapter 4

He looked up from the heavy book he was unpacking, one she'd given him on Wakandan meditation techniques and there she was... The same but different. The little princess. Slightly less gangly, a helluva lot more poised and regal, and...

This is why he'd left for three years.

"Sergeant." she said simply, her lips curving into a slight smile.

"--Highness." he said, blinking at her dumbly, because she was of course, beautiful.

"You look the same." she said, her eyes crawling over his features. Yes, his eyes were still that cool sapphire blue, his stubbled jaw still sharp, his lips still a downturned pout.

The man was a professional brooder, after-all.

She approached and he suddenly seemed closed, unable to meet her eyes, his eyes darted around the room and he made for a corner, a knick-knack of some kind in hand, which he placed on a high clay shelf.

She maddeningly followed him. "James! Where's my hug?"

She quirked an overly innocent eyebrow.

She knew damn-well what she was doing. She must have figured it out in his absence and entitled and high and mighty as she is, of course, she assumed the time did nothing to wear it away.

This is why he'd left. This girl. This beautiful, smart, perfect girl...who was well out of reach, for her own good. Because he couldn't trust himself.

And here she was, goddamn her, tempting him still as if not a day had passed.

No, he had felt every day, every hour, every minute away from her. His Shuri.

-Never his Shuri.

She had been only eighteen. A child, he insisted, when she'd brought him back from the brink, and helped get him back to some semblance of normality. Steve had been the same age when he enlisted. James "Bucky" Buchanan, seemed a decade older, having survived a tour and come back in a snazzy uniform at the ripe old age of twenty.

She was currently around a year older than he had been, back then. Another lifetime ago.

And now, he truly was the old man he naively thought himself then. Though, his body only showed a third of those years, still.

She stepped closer and looked up at him expectantly. Her arms were primly crossed behind her back and a mischievous expression was on her face.

He inhaled... That intoxicating and familiar scent of whatever concoction she always put into her hair... It was currently braided flat along the sides. Cornrows, she'd called them. It was puffed up on top in a style almost identical to the victory rolls he remembered on the girls from his enlistment days.

The bangles on her wrists clacked as she reached up and touched his hair.

"...Still haven't cut it." She clicked her tongue in the way only native Xhosa speakers do.

He couldn't hug her. He couldn't move. He should have known just how overwhelming it would be to be this close to her again... He couldn't.-

And then she did.

She embraced him. Her long thin arms circling around his back, her victory puff of hair tickling his chin.

"I missed you, Bucky."

At that, he truly well did smile.

After all this time of her ignoring his insistence on it, she finally called him by his nickname.


	5. Chapter 5

"Come on!" Shuri said. "They won't bite...probably."

She was sitting cross-legged in the dirt, surrounded by several tiny goats. Some casually trotted around her, butting at her arms and shoulders. One tiny one rested in her lap.

"Take your pick."

He frowned briefly before it hit him. She expected him to adopt one.

"They are really good kids." she said, overly proud of her lame pun. "They'll keep the foliage around your hut down and provide nice company. And, if you get really good at tending them, --depending on the sex of the goat you take, you can get milk and even make cheese!"

"...I'd suggest picking at least one girl." she said and stroked the sleeping one in her lap.

Bucky stood warily for a moment. Watching this scene before he finally entered the pen and sat down cross-legged across from her.

"I don't need any goats. Just time and the space to heal."

"Yes you do. Goats  _are_  healing." Two goats, as if on cue trotted at Bucky, butted his head and screamed in his ears.

"Watch it. They may take a bite out of your hair!" she said giggling.

"Shuri, I appreciate what you're trying to do but-"

"-Here." she interrupted. "This one is Tessa."

She reached across the space between them and took his  _only_  hand, -his right, and brought it to her lap where the goat was now snoring. It had white fur.

Bucky awkwardly pet the creature.

Shuri touched her beads and observing his heartrate pattern in a hologram floating above her palm and said, "See! You're already more relaxed. You're taking this goat."

"I thought you said I could take my pick. What if I don't want this one?"

"Then we'd argue and I'd win."

Bucky couldn't help but smile, because she was absolutely right.

"Fine, Princess." he said, and he gently lifted the tiny female goat from her lap and stood up.

"...And I'll take those two, too."


	6. Chapter 6

A Wakandan sparring room was a place of serenity and calm. Replete with rich fragrant hard woods from the Jabari lands and rubber sparring and safety equipment.

There were always some Dora here practicing and plenty of young male warriors from the surrounding tribes.

Shuri had been coming here since she could barely walk.

It was Bucky's first time. He looked around in awe of the place. "This is a Wakandan gym?"

"Sparring room." she corrected.

"It's more of a place of focused movement and meditation."

The place smelled like the valley after a storm, along with something akin to linseed and sandalwood. Not gym sweat like he was used to, but Bucky observed that the keepers of the place were constantly swabbing the place down in the fragrant oil.

"Sulia oil, a natural disinfectant." Shuri explained from behind him off-handedly. "Keeps the wood and rubber pliable. And if cut or bruised skin makes contact, it helps in healing."

Her hair was done up in an intricate braided updo and as she walked past him, he noted the body suit she was wearing had a similar look to the Black Panther suit her brother wore... The deep gray suit rippled and reflected oddly in the muted light.

"I wanted to spar. That's why I invited you here."

He gaped at her because he assumed part of his treatment was staying away from violence.

"It'll be good for you to see fighting as defensive meditation and dance, as well as offense. ...Also, I will have to fight foreigners at some point down the line. You are one of the best foreign fighters in existence, with a lot of experience on top of that, old man. I want to get better."

There was a bit of truth and a bit of bullshit in that. More than anything, he could see that she wanted to test herself against him.

He began to shake his head. She was no bigger than a minute after-all, with limbs like pins.-

Before he could complete that thought, she popped him in the face. Not hard enough to damage, but enough to wake his ass up. And it was clear that she had pulled the punch. The grace, precision, and control in that one movement did wake his ass up. Popped his nose just hard enough to make a normal man's eyes water. ...But he wasn't a normal man.

"Come on, white boy." she said dropping down into an easy defensive stance. "Let's see what you've got."

Keeping his eyes on her, he tossed his gym bag, sloughed off his shoes, and threw off the Basotho blanket he had covering his shoulders onto a nearby bench.

"Okay... Princess."

He thought to grab her and take her down easily, while she was busy being put out about being called 'princess'...but catching her, while avoiding pulled kicks and punches proved to be the difficult part.

She was as agile on her feet as a young Muhammad Ali, dodging his lunges expertly. He also noticed how light she was, which wasn't all in the suit that she was wearing. Her movements were completely silent. That made it that much more difficult to predict where she would move next.

After the fifth landed kick, she got cocky.

"Ah Sargeant, I thought you'd be harder to bea-"

He did a leg sweep and she fell hard enough to knock the wind out of her body. He straddled her, pinning her arms with his knees at chest level and wrapped a vibranium hand around her throat.

He flexed his fingers just enough to show her that she was finished, but something strange happened. The hand locked up against the vibranium mesh, and she, flexible as a contortionist, brought both legs up from behind him crossing them around his throat and pulling him off of her.

She rolled away, flipped up, and landed in that familiar cat stance.

"You thought I wouldn't make a suit stronger than your arm?"

Made sense... Now that he'd thought of it. And judging by how well she was doing, beyond studying his memories to rehabilitate him, he could see that she had also studied his fighting techniques. Smart, of course. Every time he made the mistake of underestimating her...

"Just in case, right?"

"Just in case." she replied, with a smile.

He had merely suspected in passing that she might have the same fighting skills as her brother. He had of course seen the muscle cording her skinny arms in hindsight, but had dismissed it as just being healthily raised in this paradise.

Now however he truly observed. This young woman had the body of a champion in rhythmic gymnastics. Agile, lithe, bouncy, and flexible as fresh reed, but also, as many others might underestimate, strong. What little flesh there was on her, was all muscle. And, he observed, she was quicker than her brother. An all too often underestimated ability.

Many of his kills were successful simply because he'd managed to execute them quickly, before the target could react.

She could be a formidable adversary.

"Come on. I'm not finished with you yet." she said, beckoning with a smooth Bruce Lee-style handwave. The girl did love foreign pop culture. He didn't like her cockiness though. That would get her killed.

Time to up the ante. He didn't need strength in his vibranium hand to pin her, just weighted pressure.

He pulled a spin kick and two pulled punches in succession. She dodged the first few, but the last landed hard enough to knock her back. She of course expected him to swipe at her neck, which is what he often did, but instead he simply reached out and wrapped both arms around her tiny body and lifted.

She gasped.

He smirked.

She headbutted him.

Both fell over and began to wrestle. He knew he could overpower her, but getting a good grip was the issue. Forget Wakandan obsession with cat gods, she moved like a snake and the suit she wore felt like one.

She slipped from his grip and kicked him in the face, hard enough to draw blood from the corner of his mouth.

It can't be this easy! His mind screamed. She has to know, so she doesn't let her guard down. He scrambled over her twisting body, pushed both of his knees into her thighs hard enough to bruise even through the light-panther suit and used his forearms to do the same to her arms, effectively pinning her.

He was more than double her weight and she didn't have super-strength, even with all her technique.

He gripped her face his hands, forcing her to focus on his words.

"When you really fight, you can't play. ...The enemy won't be."

She frowned up at him with a stubborn expression on her face and continued to struggle.

He leaned in, pressing into her harder...

She cried out.

A few Dora came running, but Okoye stopped them with a slight movement of her spear.

"-I yield!!" she screamed, finally.

He got up. She looked like a wounded pup, sitting there rubbing the deep contusions on her arms and thighs, but she was twenty-one now. No longer a pup and no one in the outside world would treat her like one.

Bucky remembered how they'd treated Gabe. A hero who bled alongside him and Steve, giving up so much to defend a country that didn't even see him as a man. He saw the difference in how the colored allies were treated in foreign towns vs. when they got back to the rest of the company. From what he'd seen, not much had changed.

Shuri was black and female and she'd been sheltered, catered to in a literally shielded country. The rest of the world would not be so kind. Her being royalty might even make it worse, but it didn't make him feel any better having done that. His heart constricted painfully, knowing he'd inflicted even those small injuries.

He offered his hand and she swallowed her pain and wounded pride; rallied her honor to take his hand and stand.

Still, he felt like shit for this...

He mumbled a quick "I'm going to clean up." and headed towards the mens' refreshing rooms.

Okoye put out her spear, stopping him in his tracks. She spoke quietly enough so only he could hear what she had to say.

"She needed the lesson. ...But, if you lay a hand on her again, -in any way, I'll take your head."

There was an edge to her voice that indicated that she didn't just mean hands in violence or training and he flushed a bit, feeling caught.

He nodded briefly and walked on.


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky was patient with Shuri's prodding, scanning, and close examination of the stump that was what was left of his left arm.

Shuri didn't let him see her stricken expression at the damage that had been done. His prior arm had been attached without care for comfort nor wear and tear to his shoulder. That his handlers didn't even form the arm that was his primary advantage for minimal pain to him tore at her.

She poked a particularly tender spot and he inhaled sharply.

"Bastit! -I apologize. But my scans aren't enough. I need to get a feel for where the tender areas are so that I can compensate for that when I make your new arm."

He rolled his stump. "Shuri... I don't want a new arm."

Shuri nodded. "I had a feeling that you wouldn't, ...but I had hoped that you'd let me work on one or more for my own selfish reasons? I just know that I can do better than what you had! Make something that is actually comfortable as well as functional."

Bucky huffed out a pained smile. "Shuri, brilliant as you are... I don't want or need a new arm." 

"Too many bad memories in the old one, I know" she sighed. "-but that is why I want to make you a new one."

"Knowing you... You can't just make a basic prosthetic. 'Just because something works doesn't mean it can't be improved', right?" Bucky replied.

She pursed her lips. "I can- -do basic.- If that is what you want."

Bucky had to laugh heartily at this. "Shuri, you can't even say that with a straight face. You'd pull out all the stops. - Let me guess. Vibranium. -Plenty of bells and whistles too, right?"

She crossed her arms and pouted even more. "I would also make the arm intuitive and comfortable! Not like that abominable torture device those evil people fitted you with!"

Bucky could see that it meant a lot to her. He had become more than a personal project for her. She genuinely cared for him and he cared for her, more than a little bit. She had been the only other person besides himself, who had seen the full extent of his time with Hydra... More than that, she'd sorted through all the sick, terrible, depraved things they did to him, -what they'd made him do. He knew that she desperately wanted everything to be better for him now. For her to not make that arm too, would feel like she'd neglected a major aspect of that process.

She didn't get that just being here in this place with her brother, with her, with everything Wakanda and her people are, was better than any arm she could make.

If Bucky had had a choice, he would not have even let her be exposed to all of that shit inside of his head. But she had a surprisingly evolved way of seeing him that granted her more steadiness than the average person her age. Hell, everything in Wakanda was evolved. He couldn't imagine many, if any specialists outside of Wakanda seeing his memories without recoiling from him afterward.

But this tiny girl was handling him and all of his substantially twisted baggage like a pro... A pro who tested and teased him on occasion.

"Fine. You can walk around with your naked stump, Sargeant Stubborn, but I'll construct your damn arm on my own anyway, just in case!"

Just in case.

Just in case Wakanda needed hands that were used to drowning in blood? Yeah, he'd do that.

Anything to keep this place, keep these people, including this diminutive girl standing before him untouched by the fucked-upness outside of it.

God, he hoped it would never come to that, but he'd lived long enough to know that was likely a pipe-dream.


	8. Chapter 8

She made an enchanting bride, as Bucky knew she would. Golden tribal makeup embellished her face and perfect skin with long slender lines and precise stippling. An airy ankle-length citrine colored gown covered her willowy figure. 

Barefoot but for the intricate gold henna patterns, she stepped silently to the clearing at the edge of the valley, hand in hand with Sakhile of the Mining Tribe.

He had worked in the main lab among Shuri's many assistants to refine Vibranium ore in new ways. He was instrumental in creating a stabilized plasma form, facilitating the basis of a substantial jump forward in the speed and precision of Wakandan tech.

A tall slender deep-brown man with a wide white dimpled smile and a crisp tunic, he carefully matched her steps as both walked hand-in-hand and knelt before the priests.

 

* * *

 

Bucky held a place of honor seated among her family, to the left of Queen Mother Ramonda and he played the part of highly regarded family friend. His face belied easy pride at first glance, but a deeper look revealed the truth in his eyes.

He'd danced around it easily in the beginning because she was just too damned young. Later, it was because it seemed like a betrayal of T'Challa's trust. He had taken a chance and sheltered this notoriously dangerous white foreigner, -granted him asylum in Wakanda. It would not do to repay such kindness and generosity by pursuing his sister, Wakanda's crown princess, at that.

Finally, it was knowing his actual worth. No name, no title, an old world-weary, battle-scarred, man, who'd spent the majority of his life murdering innocent people. It didn't matter that it was only by his hand and not his will.

She couldn't choose a worse match for herself if she had tried and he knew it. ...And yet, that did nothing to stop the gravity between them. -To stop the longing, the _almosts_... Not even leaving Wakanda stopped the wanting, but it was enough.

It put the necessary distance between them so there were no more almosts.

...And so she grew to full womanhood and blossomed, while he was away in the world atoning for his sins with the Hatut Zeraze. But the feelings lingered. He saw her in the news aptly handling Wakanda's spotlight with poise and grace. The girl he'd left was now this woman, still confident, headstrong, mischievous... still  _beautiful_.

His heart lifted at seeing the realization of all her hard work, talent, and that giant brain of hers, but panged painfully for his long absence from her.

Now, it was too late. She was in love with this man. He could see it; her radiant happiness a balm to his broken heart.

And so, he watched her lift and bury him at the same time by marrying him. Watched her crush his soul gladly, as she sealed her life's bond with a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because some think that time laws don't apply to this pair, I feel the need to iterate the obvious. Shuri is in her mid to late twenties in this bit, or whatever age you need her to be to feel comfortable with this scenario... If that's the source of your discomfort. If it's not, then find another fic. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I have to add, if you're fixated on an adult actress remaining a child forever and ever? Then you have the problem.

That he had not been allowed in the room through most of this had been a matter of tradition, but they did say he could catch.

When he finally entered the space, he understood immediately. There was a sense that he was witnessing something sacred. That he was an interloper who wasn't supposed to be there. The rhythmic breathing, the humming...The collective feminine energy in the room...

Something fragrant was burning in the corners which relaxed the senses. Filtered natural light peeked in through shaded corners and the way it flickered and sparked across the water's surface was like magic. Floating above the comfortably warm water was a hologram detailing the health stats of his young wife and their unborn child.

He quietly slipped in at the water's edge and kept out of the way while the women worked.

Shuri's eyes were tightly closed, and she was concentrating hard, so she yet to notice that he had even entered the room. The frown creasing her brow, stuttered deep breathing and sweat told the story of her long pained labor.

The head Douala, a sturdy woman with smooth unlined skin and close-cropped hair had two hands placed below the surface of the water, while two others soothed Shuri above with their skillfully massaging hands.

The water was disturbed a bit as she coaxed Shuri's flesh into the proper position. Shuri, for her part focused on keeping to the steady rhythm set with her breaths and let out a low whine as she squatted deeper into the water with a particularly strong contraction.

The head Douala looked to the woman closest to Bucky, who nudged him closer. She then grabbed his hands and guided them to Shuri's entrance.

"-won't be long now." she assured in Xhosa.

She rolled her palm along her lower abdomen in a particular way and several things happened in short succession. There was a sort of release, -a feeling of give, and a slimy little ball fell into Bucky's submerged hands.

As he lifted it gently from the water, most of the women continued to work, finishing the birthing process. The babe didn't cry but stretched blindly and coughed. Shuri finally opened her eyes with a grateful sob. He moved to her side and both shared awed tear-filled looks at the new life they had created. It was both beautiful in the fullness of it's health, -in the magnitude of love they felt for it, and an odd little thing, squirming squinting, a brown wrinkly babe, covered in a light down of hair.

"A healthy baby boy, praise Bast," the head Doula announced. She took a moment to expertly wrap it tightly like a burrito in a traditional Wakandan swaddling cloth, and replaced it in their waiting arms after she was done. Shuri cradled the babe high along her breasts, watched in wonder as he nuzzled and rooted until he found a nipple, and latched on.

"James Lwasi Udaku Barnes," she said quietly, and the name was repeated in a ritualistic succession by every woman present. A celebratory trill was raised, a sound which sent goosebumps down the spine.

Bucky and Shuri shared a look of loving disbelief that this present perfect moment was actually happening and then simply snuggled in closer together, as a family.


	10. Chapter 10

Shuri gapped at the little girl and the messy, badly-parted, cornrows on her head.

"Ulwazi! What happened to your hair?!"

The girl's eyes widened. She smirked shyly and shuffled her feet back and forth, looking caught.

Shuri knelt before the girl and smiled disarmingly "...Ulwazi." she repeated.

"The White Wolf let us play with his hair! It's just like an inyathi's tail!"

Shuri pursed her lips. Nandi would be very upset to see her daughter's hair so mussed. It would take some smoothing over, but she had to see what the child meant.

She followed the little girl to the shaded area in front of his modest little hut. There, seated on the grass and three low stooped benches were two other children, two local mothers, and the White Wolf, himself, James Bucky Barnes.

Shuri stopped short when she realized his hair had a few threaded bunches with beads in it and he was wearing the everyday prototype prosthetic she'd fashioned for him.

That had been a discussion. She convinced him that he needed something simple he could use for daily tasks that required more than one arm, so he wasn't constantly bothering his neighbors for help.

She had fashioned an arm that was much more than he'd said he'd needed Vibranium, trimmed in gold. So, she kept that arm, but made one that was more "casual". It was decorated in bright colors and sharp geometric patterns and made of a durable but light material close to plastic. Though, it still had more than enough heft and durability to complete those tasks he needed and the extra dexterity and smooth precision Shuri would not have had any less of, even for casual usage.

He was using both hands to carefully wrap twine around a parted bunch of young Nofoto's hair, under close supervision of Nandi herself. He was frowning and his tongue was absently worrying the corner of his mouth, in deep concentration with this task. Several portioned out lengths of black and red leather twine lay over his right shoulder.

When Nandi spotted her youngest, she snapped her fingers and said "Aeh! bring your behind over here so I can fix that nest!"

That made Bucky look up, and spot Shuri standing there smiling, with her head cocked to the side and her arms crossed over her chest, observing the scene.

"What are you doing?" Shuri said with a shake of her head and some pointed blinks.

"What does it look like? I'm learning an ancient local art and testing the dexterity of this arm you made for me." he said, innocently.

"Nandi and Amahli were kind enough to show me some basics. I think I'm getting the hang of it." he said, showing off the threaded wrap he'd just made in the little girl's hair. He was moving molasses slow, but Shuri had to admit this was much neater than Ulwazi's cornrows, at least.

"-Early attempt." he said, glancing over at that child's head.

"Don't judge me too harshly for it."

"No judgment at all." she said with a shrug. "I'm honestly, just happy to see you actually wearing my arm."

"...You like it?" she asked narrowing her eyes at him as if she didn't quite trust his answer.

"Shuri. I am truly amazed with the thing... I'll admit, you were right, I was wrong. It's perfect. I can discern individual strands of hair with my fingertips. I-. Just didn't think... -Maybe I didn't think that I deserved this."

"And now it occurs to you, that you do? Because you can assist us as well?... We took you in, after all! Might as well earn your keep! Opening a salon would be as good a way to repay us as any!" Shuri said, elbowing him lightly while teasing him, without disturbing his work.

"Well, this is relaxing. And you said focused repetitive tasks would help me."

"...White Wolf's Wigs and Weaves!" she laughed. "I'm about due for some fresh braids myself! But uh, you have to get better at this first, I think." she said, as she watched Nandi click her tongue and take out Ulwazi's messy bunches.

"Getting there." he replied, keeping his eyes and well-crafted fingers focused on finishing off an end.


	11. Chapter 11

Bucky took the case up to a private room within the palace and stripped down the trunk of his body. He lifted the arm out of the case and really gave it a good once over. Beautiful flaw-free deep gray vibranium. Delicate gold detailing. It caught the light and dazzled him with it's pure beauty in design.

There was a small paper note, in Shuri's handwriting which read:

 

> _I know you didn't want it, but I knew you'd need it at some point, so I made it. You don't need to do anything special except put it on.  
>   
>  ~ Princess S._

There was a substance at the joint, not quite liquid, not quite gel...plasma-like that he tested with his fingers.

It was like touching air.

When he lifted it to his shoulder joint, it affixed perfectly, without any sense that something artificial was attached there.

It felt like an arm. A  _real_  arm. Not the heavy mechanized weapon that had been attached to him against his will for all those long years.

He flexed his fingers and picked up the case it came in, in awe of it. He could feel more than just the weight of it, but the texture, beyond the capabilities of his own skin. Stylish and fashionable as Shuri had winklingly warned him it would be, with plenty of what she'd called "swag", he had to just mentally acknowledge that Shuri truly was the most brilliant person on earth, creating this.

He lifted it closer to his face, getting a good look at the subtle gold Wakandan lettering inscribed on the interior of his forearm.

It said simply in Wakandan,  _for The White Wolf._  Beneath was Shuri maker's mark, a beautifully symmetric Adinkra symbol meaning "have courage" with a Wakandan spear going directly down the middle.

Nothing he'd ever been given had had so much care and workmanship in it's creation.

If he'd had time to get sentimental about it, he would have.

As it was, hell was coming down from space to destroy this place and he'd be damned if he'd see that happen on his watch.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got harassed and threatened about this which made me throw my hands up and bounce. Reposting this on a whim because I can't let the haters win for keeps. I feel weak for letting people get to me, but "I'm an artist and I'm sensitive about my shit." Ideally, I'd love to put the tough face on and just be distant, but that's not me. I deal with depression and anxiety as well, so I feel deeply. It does get to me.
> 
> When this stopped feeling like an escape and instead felt like a constant fight to prove that I should be able to imagine whatever I want? It defeated the whole point of playing in fandom. The scale tipped to "not worth the trouble".
> 
> Anyway, it's back up. People who don't like it? Move on and let fans be. 
> 
> If you saw the labels and read anyway? That's on you.
> 
> So this is it, final chapter, for now. This chapter came about because I wanted to write something having to do with PTSD. I'll keep updating here as I'm inspired.

Bucky was inside a suburban home standing stock-still in the kitchen. He heard the target open, close, and lock the front door and simply waited.

It wouldn't be long.

...Bathroom first and now the kitchen, the man barely had the time to startle before the Winter Soldier had broken his neck.

 

* * *

   
Shuri was on top of his straddled form, her arms crossed against his right, mid-strike. Her fingers flexed like panther claws defensively. She had just blocked his blow and was now simply keeping him at bay, restraining him, easily done thanks to the heart-shaped herb and her extensive training.

"James!" she said. "Are you awake?!"

"...Yes. - _God_  Shuri, I'm sorry," he said, his face crumbling as he lowered his arm.

"Did I hurt you?!" he asked in a panic as he quickly looked her over, assessing for injuries. His hand shook and his eyes were glassy with fear.

She had defended herself against him while nude but for the waist beads she favored. She hadn't even broken a sweat. Even her bedtime scarf hadn't been knocked askew.

"I'm fine." she replied relaxing herself. "You didn't hurt me."

"I could have."

"No, James... My trigger-phrase worked. It awakened you."

"I thought this was over. I thought you'd be safe."

She caressed his face and settled in close to look at him.

"I am safe. I'm not injured. I handled it. I knew what I was getting into."

He said nothing, but continued to mentally self-flagellate.

" _I'm okay._ " she repeated with more emphasis. "More than a few people have spouses with PTSD. They manage. Flashbacks happen. This is why you remove your arm before we sleep together, but even that, you know I have contingencies in place for."

"Yes. I do." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "...My brilliant wife."

"Then trust me. Trust  _us_. ...Now, do you want to talk about it?"

"..." He took a moment before speaking, telling Shuri about the 1956 mission he'd just relived. Murdering a man in his own home. Knowing that his family, his wife and kids would come home and discover the body. He took no comfort in his knowledge of the Soldier's precision. No excess casualties, unless necessary. His kills left holes that would never be filled.

"You were only the vessel. The Soldier was an entity your captors created. His memories are yours but his kills are not. You know this. The serum would have made you a very different person; -twisted your mind and body if you had not had a good heart, -a good soul inside of you, James. That is the only reason they used you for so long. Your goodness made the serum work for you best. They had to constantly re-create the monster inside every time they unfroze you. After all of that, it still would not permanently take. You fought that Soldier every time they unfroze you. ...And you, the goodness in you  _survived_  all of that!"  
Shuri pecked him lightly on his lips. "I've got you, and you have you too."

Bucky kissed her forehead and draped his right arm along her form, drawing her closer, his fingers lightly plucking at her waistbeads.

"I don't deserve you."

" _Nobody_  does..." Shuri said playfully as she snuggled in.


	13. Vignette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I may put this somewhere later, but really I just wanted to get the rust out, so I can get back to writing this pair. For now, I hope you enjoy this little widowed snippet. I am working on a Halloween-themed bit that I hope to post before the day is out. (just realized this is chapter 13 don't be surprised if this is switched position-wise with the Halloween Winterprincess drabble).

He could have locked away his love and denied himself... but not her.

Never her.

And so he opened up for her.

Allowed her in, beyond what she'd gained through medicine and science to the part he'd locked away for her sake. Allowed that ember to catch and consume them both.

It had been heady, passionate, filthy in ways that defined and defied the mere want of one another's bodies.

Perhaps, he was daring her to cast him out. To take her fill and push him away in disgust.

Instead, she curled in close, breathed him in, locked eyes with him and denied him the distance of a mere fuck.

They crested and shattered one another, and like she'd done with his mind, stitched him back together.

How after all he'd done... How had she made him feel like he was made to love her?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I'm too lazy to switch the chapters, even for that horror-themed 13. Dracula is a Marvel character and I wondered what might happen if he set his sights on Shuri. Does it count as irony to have Sebby's character encounter the world's most well-known Romanian? Once again, banging out that writer's rust.

She shivered in his arms but her skin was furnace-hot. Bucky watched her skin dull as the creature's bite did it's work. They took her from his arms immediately, and he hoped that if any could provide a cure for this affliction, it would be her people.

He watched helplessly as they took her away.

 

* * *

  
  


Shuri had been targeted for her sweetness, both in heart and blood... Vlad Tepes had lived a long life but he had never encountered her like. The heart shaped herb made what pumped through her veins wholly unique in its call.

The warrior women and strange metal-armed sentinel at her side would be a problem, but he would find a way around them.

He had to taste her. Devour the immense power he sensed in her.

He made distractions of those who came to hear her speak. -They became his ghouls, his minions, creating enough chaos so he could get close to her.

The women fought fiercely to protect her, but none of them could teleport. When he finally found her, the one-armed man was close by her side, more than a protector, it seemed.

 

* * *

 

  
The room went dark and Bucky squeezed her hand and armed himself, leveling the weapon before him so he could peer through it's night-vision scope. Shuri breathed deeply, acutely aware of another presence in the room, and flexed her free hand. Her kimoya beads vibrated a proximity alert.

"Someone's here," she whispered.

A heavy mist shrouded them both and began to solidify behind her. Bucky hurled a small flashbomb through the mist and ran with Shuri to the door, tearing it from it's frame... Shuri was yanked back, and the ancient creature materialized, with his clawed hand wrapped around her throat.  
  
  


* * *

 

His ghouls came through the door and surrounded Bucky from behind. He ignored them and leveled his gun at the creature's head.

"I would not." The tall dark-haired entity warned, digging his claws into Shuri's neck just enough to draw blood. "I merely require a taste of her.  After which I shall depart from your company."

It grinned then, showing long sharp dripping fangs.

Bucky noted that Shuri was missing a bead, but gave nothing away in his expression. He fired his weapon and watched as this un-man scarcely flinched. -Watched, as the headwound knitted together instantly and the creature curled another clawed arm around Shuri faster than the normal human eye could track, curling her into his dark embrace, as the ghouls closed in around them.

Somehow he fought through destroying them all as he endeavored to get to her... The creature raised its head, its mouth heavily smeared with Shuri's blood, closed its glowing eyes, and vanished.

Bucky gathered up Shuri in his arms and pressed a shaky hand to her pulse and let out a relieved breath when he found it.

But what had he done?

What damage had been done to her, that he could do nothing to stop?


	15. What the World Thinks it Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One part petty and one part cathartic.

They hadn't exactly been hiding, as much as it simply wasn't necessary to share their relationship with the larger world. Everyone in Wakanda had known and was used to it by now. James Barnes was a trusted ally and his protectiveness and love for the country and the princess were known and respected by those who mattered.

...But when they'd first stepped out of the country together, as a married couple, there were... reactions. One consequence of the massive data dumping Natalia had done, years ago, was that the crimes of the Winter Soldier were well-known, as was his true identity.

His location and status, had been unknown. And now... He just pops up as the husband to the world's "little genius sweetheart"?

When she'd first made her international debut, she was eighteen, but outsiders latched onto to her youthful appearance and playful personality and became attached to the idea of the "quippy cute genius African kid". Outsiders saw her as one-part ever-pure youthful prodigy and the other part, unofficial Wakandan mascot, never a human being. Never the evolved young woman, and now Queen-regnant that she was.

Sam had warned her that outsiders had strange and complicated relationships with blackness, and her being foreign and from what was now known as the most advanced society on the planet? Made that all the worse.

How was this pure sweet girl now married to the old hardened assassin? Was he taking advantage? None knew that she had been the one who had had his life and sanity in her hands, or that they had found mutual comfort and understanding in the uniquely heavy weights they bore in life. None could see how much they clicked and felt for one another. They only saw the differences. ...Age, race, presumed disposition.

Whenever she attended conferences or gave lectures these days, there were always several invasive and judgy questions, that had nothing to do with the advanced sciences she'd come to speak about. And she'd always have to give a vague little nod to the Dora guarding her, who would then escort these assholes out.

It was bothersome, but it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. And in the stillness of their home where they lived and loved well, apart from outsiders' presumptions, it mattered not an iota.


End file.
